If I Could Turn Back Time
by NCCJFAN
Summary: After an argument with Woody, Jordan is involved in a car crash that puts her in a coma for two years. Others have moved on with their lives, but for her, it's the day after the argument....
1. It Doesn't Get Any Easier

**Disclaimer: Despite repeated offers from me, Tim Kring won't sell his characters or allow me to write for the TV show. So I don't own anything to do with Crossing Jordan. This is all for fun and not for profit, believe me.**

**Darn.**

**Chapter One**

**It Doesn't Get Any Easier**

Some days it seemed that work never got any easier. There were always murderers and burglars, rapists and con men…no matter how hard he worked…no matter how many of the perps he got off the street, it seemed that there were four more to take their place. Woody ran a hand through his hair, setting it on end, and leaned back in his chair to catch his breath.

It never ended. There wasn't a light at the end of his tunnel…or a dawn just about to break.

It was dark…and it had been to him for a while now….

Despite the good things that had happened to him recently…a new girl he had just begun to see…a promotion at work…a new apartment, part of his world seemed dark…a dim reflection of what it had been two years ago. He had tried to pull out of this deep funk…and at times had seemed successful…but it was all a ruse. A cover up. A sham. He hadn't been the same since six months after he was shot by the sniper.

And it wasn't the sniper shooting and battle to get his legs back that had put him in this state of mind.

It was her.

Six months after the sniper shooting, she was gone. Out of his life, out of reality…Jordan simply wasn't there any longer. He couldn't talk to her…or argue with her…

Or apologize for the hurtful words he had said to her in the hospital room that day…_Screw your pity, Jordan. Just get out. Now._ He could never take the words back, but now he couldn't even let her know how sorry he was that he said them.

So he moved on…he had tried for a while to make contact with her, but nothing had worked. She didn't respond. Reluctantly, after a while, he had given up. He still asked about her, to her friends at the morgue, but their response was always the same… "She's doing as well as can be expected…"

Woody sighed and pushed aside the pile of paperwork that needed his attention. It had been two years. There had been no change. It was truly time for him to go on with his life. Garret even told him so. Maybe Jenna would begin to date him seriously. Maybe he could learn to let go of a past that had a huge Jordan-sized hole in it.

One that would probably never be filled by her again. There was no getting her back now….he suspected she was too far gone.

Picking up the report he was supposed to be reading, he scanned the information, making a mental note to talk to the answering officer before the day was out…then pushing that one aside, he continued to work through the stack of reports until he reached the bottom of the pile. When he had reached it, read it, and signed off on it, he grabbed his coat and reached over to turn off the light on his desk, but her picture caught his eye. He put it there to remind him of what could have been. It was one that Lily had made of them at the Christmas party…right before he was shot. She was beautiful in red…and was smiling that enigmatic smile that always threw him off balance because he never knew what she was thinking.

He always had believed, if things would have worked out, they could have been happy together at some point. At some distinct time, the stars would have aligned, both of their defenses would have been down, and they both would have admitted they needed each other more than their next breath.

Now he realized, after two years, it was never meant to be. He lightly touched the picture with his finger before snapping off the light. It would never happen…not now. It was like Garret had said, the best thing for him to do was go on with his life. He was young. He had years ahead of him and she would want him to be happy.

He was putting on his coat when the ringing of his cell phone broke the silence of his office and pushed him out of his reverie. "Hoyt," he said into receiver.

"Woody…this is Garret."

"Garret. How's it going? I was just getting ready to leave, but if it's about the Johnson case I can come over to the morgue before I go home…."

"No…It's not about the Johnson case. It's about Jordan."

Woody sat down heavily in his chair. He feared it couldn't be good news. "Jordan?" he repeated. His mouth was dry and he was suddenly having a hard time breathing. "What…?"

"The doctor just called. She's beginning to wake up."

* * *

"Come on Dr. Cavanaugh….open your eyes," Dr. Cruz said, prying open Jordan's eyelids and looking at the pupils with a pen light. "Come on…you're just about there….wakey, wakey…"

"Hmphf," Jordan mumbled, as her eyes struggled to open and focus despite the bright light flashing in them.

"Come on….that's better…."

Jordan pushed away the hand that was holding the offending light. "Stop," she said, "Where the hell am I? What happened?"

"Easy….easy….," Dr. Cruz said, snapping off the light, sitting back, and looking at her carefully. "I don't want my favorite patient to get so worked up." He gave her a smile…one tinged with relief and wonder. "How do you feel?"

"I have a headache and I'm tired. What happened?"

Dr. Cruz's smile grew wider. "You sustained a little head injury on that last case you were working on…you've been out of it for a little while."

"Well, that explains the headache."

"Probably." Dr. Cruz hesitated, waiting for the inevitable question.

"So…how long have I been out, Doctor?"

There it was. "A while," he hedged. "Let me finish examining you and then Dr. Macy hopes you feel up to seeing him."

* * *

The phone slipped from Woody's nerveless fingers. She was waking up…coming around. After two years in a coma, Jordan was regaining consciousness.

"Woody? Woody, are you there?" He heard the ME's voice coming from his phone that had fallen on the floor. He bent and grabbed the phone with slippery, sweaty fingers.

"I'm here…"

"I'm on my way to Boston General…Want to meet me there?"

"Yeah… What does the doctor say?"

"Not a whole lot right now…she's just begun to wake up…her brain scans have been normal for months….there wasn't any atrophy there. So maybe…"

"She'll be okay…normal."

"We can only hope…"

Woody made it to the hospital in record time, forgetting the elevator and taking the stairs two at a time to the eighth floor. Throwing open the door to the stairwell and rounding the corner, he caught sight of Garret in the hall.

"What's the word? How is she?" Woody asked, still trying to regain his breath.

"She's awake…and talking…" Garret said, giving Woody a tight smile… the kind of smile that let him know that while the initial news was good….there was more to it than that.

"But…" Woody said. "It's not all good news, is it, Garret."

"No…I'm afraid not."

"Then what?"

"She's lost track of time…she thinks it's the day after the accident."


	2. A Bitter Aftertaste

**Chapter Two**

**A Bitter Aftertaste**

_Two Years Prior_

Stifling a groan and desperately wishing she would have remembered to preset her coffee pot, Jordan rolled out of bed and got ready for work. She had never been a morning person, but in the past, at least a tantalizing case was enough to make her "rise" even if she didn't "shine" until nearly eleven o'clock.

Only now, it didn't matter what case she was working on…getting up and out the door was becoming more and more difficult. She longed to curl back up in the corner of her bed and go back to sleep. Try not to remember at least. God knows it was impossible to forget. Try as she might she couldn't forget Woody's words in that hospital room. _Get out. Now. Screw your pity, Jordan_.

So that was what she had done. She had gotten out…pushed back her true pity for Woody…because she did have pity for a man cut down in his prime…and tried to forget that she loved him.

But it was getting harder to do that each day, because she still had to see him…and work with him….and talk with him…and pretend that not a damn thing was wrong between them. They never spoke of what he had said to her in his hospital room again…and the only person Jordan had confided in at a moment of weakness was Garret.

And that had been six months ago…right after Woody had dissolved any romantic notions she may have begun to harbor…and killed any friendship that may have grown between them. Since his shooting and subsequent recovery, Woody had been nothing but cold, border-line calculating with her. Aloof. Stand-offish….pick any synonym that would define the word 'prick' and you now had an adjective to describe their relationship….or whatever the hell it was.

Filling the pot with water and the hopper with coffee, Jordan started her highway to caffeine heaven and climbed in the shower, running the water as hot as she could stand it, trying to rinse any thought of him out of her mind…..

Not that that would work, either.

Midway through trying her damnedest to make an effort, her cell phone had gone off. "Cavanaugh," she had spoken into her phone, managing to utter the single word around her toothbrush.

"Jor, it's Garret. Look, Woody has found a body downtown in a back alley. I know you're the answering ME, but I can take it if you're still feeling a little awkward."

Jordan held her breath and thought for a moment. That would be the easy way out….she could let Garret take the call…and she could go into the office and start the day's scheduled autopsies. Woody would never know she had 'chickened out' of working with him.

But she would know. And that would bother her.

"No..I'll take it, Gar. It'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure…what's the address?"

Jordan had jotted the location down and after swallowing another cup of coffee, had found the location, Woody, and the body in a back alley. "Good morning," she had said, forcing a brightness she did not feel.

"Morning," he had replied curtly, "This is what I've got," he went on, flipping his notebook open and reading the facts to her rapid fire. "Peter Howell…35, according to his driver's license, from Baltimore, Maryland. From the ticket stubs in his pocket, I'd guess he came here for a Sox game…."

Woody rattled on and on, while she had examined the body…."What time did you get the call?" she had asked.

"About seven this morning..why?"

"He hasn't been dead long…but he didn't die here…."

And that's where it had started…it wasn't the fact that they disagreed on where Peter Howell had died…it was the fact they _disagreed_. That argument just absorbed all the inner frustration and anger both of them felt like a sponge…until it was full and it had to be wrung out. And when it was, they took it out on each other.

Neither of them gave an inch, standing toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose….It was Woody's comment – "Screw your hunches, screw your conspiracy theories…._screw you, Jordan…_" that sent her over the edge. No matter how angry he had been with her before, he had never been that vehement at her. Inwardly crumbling at his onslaught, she had turned quickly so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. She turned on her heel and left his office. By the time she got in her car and drove off, the tears were falling thick and fast…filling her eyes and blurring her vision…

She never saw the car that hit her….a blare of a horn and the sickening sound of crumpling metal was all that echoed through her head.

* * *

"So she thinks it's the day after the accident?" Woody asked Garret.

"At the most, only a day or two. Dr. Cruz says she still thinks Bush is President and most of New Orleans is still underwater…"

"And the Howell case?"

Garret shook his head. "Cruz hasn't said if she's mentioned any cases….just that her sense of time is off. To her, she may have been out of it two days…"

"And in reality it's been two years…"

"However, the good news is that other than being caught in a time warp, Jordan appears to be perfectly normal."

_But time warp could be too much for her to deal with,_ though Woody, remembering how fragile Jordan had looked the last time he had seen her awake and in his office. His last comments had cut her to the quick and continued sliced him open during the time he had hoped and prayed she's wake up. _Screw you_….how could he have said something so thoughtless to her…he could tell it had hurt her from the moment he saw her shoulders sag again and the way she had tried to hide her tears as she had rapidly walked off.

Why didn't he go after her and tell her he was sorry?

Why didn't he follow her to make sure she would be okay?

Why didn't he take her in his arms and tell her it wasn't her he was angry at, but at the mitigating circumstances that continually kept them apart?

He had asked himself those questions dozens of times and the only answer he kept coming up with was arrogance. She had hurt him, now it was his turn to hurt her...just as many, if not more, times than she did.

Woody had swallowed his pride more than once since the doctors had come out of the emergency room that day and told them that Jordan was in a coma and none of the medical personnel could tell when or if she'd ever wake up.

And it had left a bitter, lonesome taste in his mouth.


	3. Coming Out of the Dark

**Chapter Three**

**Coming Out of the Dark**

_The thing about coming out of a coma is that no one warns you how badly your head's going to hurt. Sure, it's great to be waking up….but the searing pain radiating between your temples is the torment of Biblical proportions, _Jordan thought as she rubbed the sides of her head and tried to focus. She had been tested and questioned, poked and prodded to the point where she was quickly losing patience with Dr. Cruz and his assorted minions that occupied the intensive care unit. She had had enough, and was ready to tell everyone there in no uncertain terms where they could stick their blood pressure cup, when the door to her hospital room opened and a familiar form walked in, somewhat obscured by the afternoon sun gleaming through the mini-blinds and bouncing off the stark, white walls.

"Garret…" Jordan whispered. Unconsciously she held out her arms like a small child asking for a hug.

Which Garret obliged, holding her as closely as she would let him, mindful of her head, and thanking the powers that be that she was once again awake and talking. "How are you feeling?" he asked, knowing that was an inane question to be asking after two years.

"Killer headache."

He smiled at her and gently smoothed her long, chestnut hair off her shoulders. "Yeah. Most people have them after waking up from a coma."

"So they've told me."

"Has Dr. Cruz given you anything for it?"

"Supposedly there's some pain meds in this IV," she jiggled the clear, plastic line, "but if there are, I haven't felt them yet."

"You will, I'm sure."

"I just hope the drugs don't make me sleepy. I don't want to go back to sleep," she said nervously chewing her bottom lip. Garret caught the insinuation…_if I go back to sleep, I might not wake up for a few more days…._He lightly stroked her arm without the IV in it.

"Maybe they won't."

"Maybe….but other than the headache, I'm really tired….funny isn't it? I've been asleep for a few days and I'm still tired…"

Garret swallowed hard and looked away. Evidently Dr. Cruz still hadn't filled Jordan in on her marathon two-year nap. "Well…that's another side effect of a coma. Kind of ironic, isn't it?"

Jordan nodded, watching him carefully. "So….since I've been out, how's the Howell case going?"

Garret choked, but covered it with a cough. The case had gone to trial with Jordan's initial findings backed up by Bug's final ones. The man had been killed in his apartment and his body dumped in an alley. The murderer was convicted with the morgue's forensic evidence, with Jordan getting most of the credit. It was the last case she had signed off on before her accident. Garret still held the reports in his office, hoping against hope, one day she'd wake up and be able to fill out the final report herself. "It's going fine," he managed to get out.

"Where's it at? I mean, did Woody ever admit I was right? That the body had been dumped in the alley? That Peter Howell had been killed elsewhere and then placed in that alley?"

"Yeah…Woody did finally admit you were right…especially after Bug told him the same thing."

Jordan's lips turned up at the corners. Bug would have come to the same conclusion and not have given Woody an inch to argue. "Good. So where's my bad Bug at now?"

"He's working…"

"Tell him to come on by. From what Cruz has said, I'm going to have to stay here a few more days, even though I'm awake and ready to go on with my life. He can bring me up to speed on the case."

Garret could feel his palms grown moist and the sweat begin to pop out on his brow. He never was a good liar. At least not with her. Not with Jordan, who in the past had always never hesitated to let you know exactly what she thought…in no uncertain terms.

"Umm…Jordan, the case has been closed."

"Already? Damn, it must have been easy to solve….who killed Howell?"

"Would you believe his lover?"

"That's pretty typical…murders are generally crimes of passion…"

"Yeah, but this time his lover was Councilman Burrell…"

The magnitude of what Garret had just said hit Jordan like a ton of bricks. "Dear God…and to think I slept through that…" she chuckled until she caught Garret's expression. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Did I do something wrong with the case?"

"No…the work you did was thorough and near-perfect. As usual."

"Then when does the case go to trial?"

_Oh, hell…_ he thought, as he looked down at his hand still holding hers for a second to get his bearings. _Here it goes…._ "It went to trial six months ago, Jordan." His eyes never left hers as he told her, gauging her reaction carefully.

"Six…six…months…ago…" her voice faltered as it begin to dawn on her what Garret was telling her. "Then I've been unconscious for six months? Why hasn't anyone said anything?"

Garret looked away for a minute and then caught her eyes again. "It's been a little longer than six months, he finally said, his hand still gripping hers tightly.

"Then…how….long?"

"Two years, Jor," he nearly whispered. "You've been in a coma for two years…."

Jordan felt the room begin to spin and reality begin to slip away again as the significance of Garret's words sank in…dimly she heard an alarm go off and saw a nurse push Garret out of her way. She tried to call out to him to stay, but her voice wouldn't work… her lips wouldn't obey her brain's commands. As a matter of fact, nothing was working…..

* * *

When Garret came back into her room later, Jordan was curled up on her side, away from the door, facing the window. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey yourself," she answered, not turning over at the sound of his voice. He went around her bed so he could see her.

"Don't scare me like that again. You've scared me plenty over the past two years. It's got to stop." He gave her a tight smile as he sat on the side of her bed and took her hand once more.

"So how'd this happen to me, Gar? How'd I end up pulling a Rip Van Winkle?"

Taking a deep breath and vowing to keep it simple, Garret began. "You left the nineteenth precinct after discussing the Howell case with Woody and pulled into the path of an oncoming car. End of story."

Jordan's brow wrinkled as the fact slowly began to filter back through two years worth of fog. "I didn't see the other car coming. I remember that."

"Jordan, it was broad daylight and clear weather. Are you sure?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes. "I didn't see it coming because I had been crying."

"Crying?"

"Yeah." Her voice cracked at the memory. "Woody and I had been arguing over the Howell case. He finally told me, 'Screw your hunches, screw your conspiracy theories…._screw you, Jordan'…_ And I just couldn't handle it. I left his office, crying…that's the last thing I remember until I heard the crunch of metal."

Garret had heard the story from Woody several times over the last two years. While he know Woody was truly sorry over what had happened and kicked himself in the ass repeatedly for his careless words, those facts did nothing to alleviate the anger he now felt hearing the story come from Jordan's halting lips. Especially when he saw the tears begin to gather in the corners of her eyes again and slowly slip down her face. While the rest of the world had moved on, for Jordan, it was still the day after Woody had kicked her out of his life again. The pain was still very fresh and very real to her.

Resolutely, she wiped the tears away with the back of the hand that wasn't attached to her IV. "So…two years," she began shakily. "Long time, no see….anyone. Get me caught up, Gar. Is everyone still at the morgue?"

Garret's smiled. "Pretty much. Bug and Nigel are still there. So is Lily and she's engaged to Matt."

Jordan's eyes widened. "Seely and Lily? Engaged?"

He nodded. "The wedding is this coming summer."

"Shit. It's a good thing I did wake up. I'd hate to miss that."

"And I'm sure she'd hate for her maid of honor to be brought down the aisle on gurney with an IV stuck in her arm."

"Would make the wedding dances kind of difficult…."

"And Slokum's dead."

"Jack Slokum is dead? Who killed him?" Jordan grinned.

"Did it to himself. He was arguing with the district attorney over some lab's incompetence and our slowness. And he had an aneurism in the middle of that heated debate."

"Oh my God. You're joking…."

"Seriously."

"Bet Renee' liked to lost it when he collapsed in front of her…"

Garret cleared his throat. "Renee's not the DA any longer. She went into private practice after the baby was born."

"Oh….what's she have?"

"Little girl. Cute as a button."

Jordan laughed. For all her seeming coldness, Jordan had been well-aware how much Renee' had longed for a baby. The fact that her ex impregnated her made no difference to Renee'… she was going to be a mother. "You two….?" Jordan let the question hang in the air.

"No. I mean, yes. Occasionally. But nothing serious or steady."

Silence followed the last comment as the unspoken question circled the room. Finally, in a soft voice, Jordan asked, "Woody?"

"He's still at the nineteenth. You'd never know he'd ever had been injured. The limp is almost gone…as are the nightmares, at least most nights, anyway. He's gotten a promotion…moved into a better apartment…and…." Garret faltered. He really didn't want to tell Jordan the rest, but knew he would rather have her hear it from him than through the gossip grapevine at the morgue.

"Moved on with his life."

Garret nodded and looked down at the floor.

"Do I know her?" Jordan finally asked, her voice quiet and resigned.

"Yeah, you do. Jenna Burgess. She…"

"Was the pretty blonde receptionist at Renee's office. I remember. She was hired about a month or so before …" Jordan still had trouble saying the words.

So Garret finished the sentence for her. "Before Woody's shooting…" _Before he was a complete ass and kicked you out of his hospital room_.

"Wow. A lot's happened in two years….and I slept right through it."

"Which means you have two years to make up for…"

"Garret….does Dad know…." Jordan swallowed hard….if her dad had come and went after her accident…or had passed away, she never knew it.

"Nigel tried to find him…but couldn't. Max hid too well. Nigel spent three weeks doing nothing but trying to locate your father…nothing."

Jordan sighed and looked away from Garret, staring at the fading rays of the afternoon sun filtering through the mini-blinds. So much had changed….Lily and Seely. Renee'. Garret.

Yet so much had stayed the same. Max and Woody still didn't want her…not even after she had been out of it for two years. Swallowing hard and fighting back the tears, she muttered under her breath, "Screw _them_."


	4. Screw You

**Chapter Four**

**Screw You**

A soft knock on her door woke Jordan out of her nap. She didn't like to sleep now…the fear that she might not wake up for another two years was always in the forefront of her mind.

It had been two days since she woke up from her extended nap. In those two days she had seen Lily and Seely, Nigel and Bug, Renee', and of course, Garret – numerous times.

The only person who hadn't visited her hospital room was Woody. And she was pretty sure it was him behind the knock at her door now. She could feign sleep…and she was sure, being the gentleman that he was, he would turn around and leave….thus saving her the awkward situation of seeing an almost-ex-lover. Garret had said Woody had moved on with his life. Jordan fervently wished he would just keep moving…away from her and into his future. She had no desire to be hurt again by this man.

He knocked again. This time a little louder.

_It's been two years…_she swallowed hard before she said, "Come in."

The door cracked open a little wider and a white handkerchief of surrender was waved through the door followed by an extremely large bouquet of flowers. For a moment, anger flared in Jordan. _How dare he…after what he said … the way he treated me … _

Then the voice of reason echoed: _It's been two years, Jordan_.

Maybe for him…but not for her. For Jordan, it was still the day after he told her, "Screw your hunches, screw your conspiracy theories…._screw you, Jordan."_ The rejection was still very fresh and very real to her. Trying to balance time and emotions on the head of pin was wearing thin for her.

"Can I come in?" he finally asked, still not showing his face through the opening of the door.

"Uh. Sure."

He had changed. Jordan didn't know that two years could change a person so much. When she had last saw him, he had been cold to her…ugly. Nearly hateful. He had walked with a limp, tired easily, and sometimes the pain would cause his mouth to twist into a grimace that Woody wasn't aware of.

But now….he seemed … different… again. Something close to that farm boy she had known six years ago Not as naïve, but … different. Jordan couldn't put her finger on it, but it was there….the difference. He was thinner, and his face wore a look of concern and worry…maybe even guilt.

But dear God, his eyes were still just as blue.

She watched as he sat the flowers down on the tray beside her bed and then rock back and forth awkwardly on his heels. "So…."

"Sit down Woody. I never did like you hovering."

Slowly he walked around her bed and sat down in the chair beside her. He reached out to take her hand, but stopped, not sure of what her reaction would be. The past two years had brought a myriad of emotions to him concerning her. First of all, it was guilt. He had done this to her….even though it was indirect and it surely wasn't intentional, he was still responsible. He had made sure she was hurt when she left his office that day. He saw the tears and never ran after her to check on her…help her stop crying.

Tell her he was wrong and sorry and never meant a word he said.

Instead he had sat there in his office in righteous indignation knowing that he had finally caused her as much pain as she had him. He had seen her tears. And he felt justified.

Until Garret had called him fifteen minutes later with the news about her accident.

The second emotion that moved him was concern. How was she doing? Did she sustain any brain damage? When would she wake up?

What would he do if she didn't?

Because the emotion that wrenched his gut the most was the realization of how much he loved her. And he simply didn't know what he would do if she didn't wake up at some point. He had been just existing for so long…and it wasn't until recently that Garret had urged him to move on with his plans for the future.

He hadn't been very successful….

But the wary look on Jordan's face told him that she had no clue just how he felt…that she thought things were still the same between them as they had been the day of her accident.

"So…how are you feeling?" he finally asked.

"Tired…my head hurts…" She shrugged. "Typical post-coma stuff."

Woody nodded. "When are they going to let you blow this joint?"

"Not nearly soon enough."

Woody chuckled. That sounded like the Jordan he remembered. "Any idea, though?" he asked.

"In a couple of days…as soon as I can verify I have someone to 'baby sit' me for a month or so."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he'd be glad to do it. She was more than welcome at his place…he now had an apartment with a spare bedroom instead of the studio one she remembered.

Evidently, she read his expression. "Garret's letting me crash with him," she finished quickly. There was no way she was rooming with Woody for any amount of time or heartache.

"Ah. Well then."

"Yeah…." Her voice trailed off and she looked away.

"Damn, this is awkward," he said suddenly.

And to her surprise, Jordan felt her eyes fill with tears. It was. Awkward that is. For despite two years, despite the fact that Woody had had the time to process what had happened between them…analyze it, deal with it, definite it, catalogue it, and categorize it … Jordan hadn't. For her, she still remembered too much. The ring. The shooting. His cutting words that had made her bleed so badly she thought if she checked under the front of her hospital gown, she'd still be hemorrhaging..

"I didn't mean to make you cry…" he blurted out, reaching for a tissue to hand her.

"It's….it's post-coma emotions…yo-yo like stuff…PMS on steroids," she lied, cursing her emotions and telling herself to get a grip.

If Woody didn't believe her, she wasn't able to tell it.

But he didn't. However, his disbelief was masked behind the cool exterior of a mature detective. "I'm sorry…"

"Sorry?"

"For making you cry….oh hell, Jordan, I'm sorry for everything….the way I treated you after my shooting. What I said….I just was hurting so badly myself…"

"That you wanted to hurt me."

"No. Yes." He raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. "Yes. At the beginning I did want to hurt you, because you hurt me. But later…Jordan, you have no idea what it was like coming up here and talking to you….and getting no response….not knowing if you heard me…about how sorry I was and how much I missed you."

Jordan's eyebrow raised in disbelief. "I didn't hear you…."

Woody shook his head. "Do you believe me?"

"I believe you felt guilty…for the accident….because that's the kind of person you are at the core. You may have tried to play the bastard card all cold and calculating, but I know you. You felt guilty."

Woody nodded. "I did…I should have gone after you that day…"

"And did what? Hurt me again? I don't think I would have believed your apology then anymore than I do now."

"Jordan…" Woody felt the color drain from his face and his lips go numb.

"Do you remember what you told me, Woody? About my pity?"

He nodded again, his chest suddenly feeling too tight to hold his ribcage.

"You don't do pity, Woody. I don't do guilt. Screw your guilt. Screw you."

He stood then, and Jordan caught a glimpse of the man she knew minutes before her car crash. In a split second, he became cold, bitter….hostile towards her once again. "As you wish," he said, and turning on his heel, he left her hospital room, the door banging softly behind him.


	5. Control

**Chapter Five**

**Control**

A week later found Jordan ready to go home, but homeless.

And dropped back into a world that she sometimes struggled to recognize. In reality, she knew that two years wasn't that long and most things didn't change that much during that time. But when you sleep through the years and suddenly just wake up, the changes that have taken place can make even the strongest person gasp and want to retreat back into darkness. Jordan recognized the feeling and did her best to fight the depression that often accompanies a coma survivor.

It wasn't easy.

After her fall out with Woody when he was shot by the sniper, Jordan had removed him on her emergency contact list as next of kin. She replaced him with Garret. And Garret had done an excellent job of taking care of her. He had made sure she had the best medical attention available, that she was taken care of, and kept comfortable.

But there were some decisions he had to make that stripped Jordan of the very things that gave her security and freedom. The first being her Pearle Street apartment. As it became apparent that she wasn't going to come out off the coma soon, Garret had reluctantly let her apartment go. He had stored some of her furniture in his basement…her bed, a couch, her kitchen stuff – and her beloved guitar. He told her he would have never gotten rid of that. It reminded him too much of her.

The second decision Garret had to make was involving her El Camino. Jordan had loved the truck, but even before her accident, it was proving impractical. She couldn't get parts if it broke down, and it was wearing out fast. She had been trying to decide whether to trade it, sell it, or just junk it and bite the bullet … buy a new car and set up payments … when the crash happened. Garret had chosen not to even try to get her truck repaired. "I didn't want you driving it again when you came to," he had told her. "It was old and unsafe….no airbags, no seatbelts….what the hell were you thinking when you bought it?"

The fact is she wasn't thinking. It was cheap and she could pay for it. That was all that had mattered at the time. Her mortality and the truck's durability never crossed her mind.

She also struggled to catch up on what had happened to everyone in the last two years. While personalities had basically remained the same, other events had changed her friends' futures. Lily was engaged to Matt. They were getting married in the summer. Lily had asked Jordan to be her maid of honor.

Somewhat reluctantly, Jordan had said "Yes." It wasn't that she didn't want to do it, it was the fact that somehow she didn't feel like she quite fit in yet. Wasn't sure what to say. Was even less sure of what to do. She was happy for Lily and Matt.

As well as for Nigel, who finally had begun dating another woman, after getting over Sarah. Jordan was delighted, but had never met the woman and knew nothing about her…although she seemed nice enough. Nigel did bring Gloria by the hospital to meet Jordan.

If these changes were making her head hurt, she was at least thankful that one of her co-employees had remained relatively the same. Bug was still happily single, content in his work and his studies…even if he was more pensive than ever.

With two years worth of changes facing her, as well as some recovery time, Garret had persuaded her to come home with him until the doctors said she was well enough to live on her on. "I can take care of you and then gradually bring you back to work as you're able," Garret said.

Jordan sighed. She hated being a burden to anyone. But she had little choice. She needed to be with someone at night and had no place to stay. And with all her friends so busy with their own lives, Jordan didn't want to interfere with their schedules. Reluctantly she had agreed with Garret. "But only until I'm able to live on my own," she said.

"Sure," he agreed.

So now Jordan found herself watching Garret get ready and go to work each morning, leaving her behind to rattle around in his house, reading, watching the news, trying to catch up and get her bearings in a world that for her, had propelled itself to years in the future overnight.

She shook her head as she finished her coffee one morning and told Garret good-bye. "I'll be home about six," he told her. "Stay out of trouble until then, okay?"

"What trouble could one post-comatose woman get into here?" she joked. "You haven't let me hold so much as one scalpel or talk to a cop since I got out of the hospital."

"And I plan on keeping it that way until Dr. Cruz releases you to go back to work," Garret grinned. "Bake cookies or something…."

Jordan threw the dishtowel at him, which Garret neatly ducked and threw back at her. "See you," he said, before he shut the door behind him.

Jordan sat down at the counter and poured herself another cup of coffee. Garret and Dr. Cruz was well aware of how badly she wanted to go back to work…even part time. But her health was still a hindrance. She had problems with things moving under her feet. Not walking exactly, but being put in situation such as one where she would have to ride a train and stand up. That action would make her dizzy and sick. And constant fatigue seemed to plague her. No matter how much she rested, she seemed to always be tired.

That was bothering her this morning as she slid off the barstool, put her coffee cup in the sink, and made her way into the sunroom. Lying down on the couch, she mentally made a list of everything she needed to do as her energy returned.

The first was go shopping. For clothes, make up, and shoes. Lily had bought her a few things…mainly sweats … when she got out of the hospital. Garret had gotten rid of all of her other clothing…not that she would have worn much of it anyway. Styles had changed. She was determined to keep up with fashion and at least look nice. If she was still growing stronger by the end of the week, she'd give Lily a call and see if the grief counselor had time for a shopping trip on Saturday or Sunday. She needed casual and work clothes.

She really needed everything.

She sighed as she rolled to her side and continued to make her list. Then she needed to at least go back into the morgue and reclaim her office. Go through her old files. Sign off on the final Howell report.

See who were the other detectives she would be working with besides Woody. She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow at the thought. She had seen Woody one more time before she left the hospital. He had bumped into her when he came by the nurses' desk to check on her on his way to his doctor.

Jordan had no idea he was even still seeing a doctor about his post-sniper injuries, but he remained under a physicians care. Despite all the therapy he had undergone and despite the fact he had worked very hard, Woody still walked with a slight limp…one that would grow worse if he was tired. He didn't apologize to her about their encounter in her hospital room. He simply told her he was glad she was feeling better and would be going home soon. Then he had turned and left as suddenly as he had come….his words holding the same coldness and frost that his eyes now did.

Her farm boy had changed. Drastically. Despite a fairly successful recovery, Lily and Nigel had told Jordan that Woody had become cold, hard, and bitter. After he had returned to his job after his DL was over, he had received a promotion. He was making more money…found a great, new apartment. And of course, found a great, new girl, too. One that was the totally opposite of Jordan. Blonde. Bubbly. He and Jenna were dating fairly steadily now.

Jordan tried her best in her heart of hearts to be glad for him, but that emotion couldn't be conjured up yet. She felt as bitter as he did….like she had been cheated out of two years she had no control over. Like much of her future had been stripped away from her because of what happened in the past.

Wearily, she pulled the throw down off the back of Garret's couch and curled up in it. She had no control over her past. What was done was done. But her future was a different story.

And she'd be damned if she'd lose control again.


	6. Normal

**Chapter Six**

**Normal**

Her escape finally came three weeks later. After enduring yet one more exam, Dr. Cruz released her to go back to work part time. "Just from eight until one or two. And not at all if you feel dizzy or overly tired. Then you get your butt back over to me," he warned.

Jordan had smiled for the first time in weeks. At least one part of her life was going to return to normal.

So bright and early on a winter's Monday morning, she found herself back at her old desk and her old job, surrounded by the people she had known and loved for years…doing the work she had been trained to do.

And still feeling totally lost. Weeks went by…then a month and then two. She found that she no matter what she did, she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place … like a fish out of water. During the brief time Slokum had ruled the morgue, he had implemented several new forms and procedures which Garret had been forced to maintain as part of his probationary period when he was re-instated as chief ME. It seemed to Jordan she would never get used to the new round a paperwork she had to do with each autopsy. And God knows she had never been one to follow procedure. That was one of the things that made her such a good ME. She knew when to say the hell with the rulebook and go on her instinct. She wasn't allowed to do that now.

The biggest issue, at least for Jordan, was that she couldn't be comfortable with _herself. _The two year nap she took and thrown her behind emotionally…her friends had moved on with their lives, just assuming she'd catch up and be glad for the positive, new events and people in their lives. And she was.

It was just that all these changes had been dropped on her so suddenly. She was still struggling with the fact that Bush was no longer president….that she had slept through the election.

How did they think that all of the other changes closer to her heart would affect her? That she'd just be able to accept them and move on with her life immediately? Jordan sighed and turned away from her filing cabinet. She had come into the office with Garret at eight. He would take her home after lunch. The majority of her time this morning had been looking for the file concerning a case she had been working on about two weeks before her accident. Jordan was spending a great deal of time catching up on what had been her open files before she slipped into a coma.

Straightening up, she stretched her back to get out the kinks. She hated not being able to do field work yet. She hated being tied to the office. Realistically, she knew that soon the time would come where she would be able to go out on calls with Nigel or Sydney again. But right now that didn't help. It was a beautiful, clear, winter day in Boston. The sun was shining for all its worth…and she didn't want to be stuck in the office a moment longer. Determinedly, she thought for a moment, grabbed her coat, and made her way into Garret's office. "I'm going for a walk," she announced.

"By yourself?" he asked, looking over the frames of his reading glasses.

"I'm old enough not to have to hold a grown up's hand," she smirked. Then she sighed. "I guess I'm just tired of being cooped up…like a child getting over a long illness. I just want…normal again, Gar," she finished, sounding wistful.

"It will come, Jordan. The day will come when that coma is just a blip on your life's radar screen."

"I know…it's just that I want it -- normal -- now…so much has changed."

"You'll adjust. You always have in the past. You will now." He smiled gently at her. "Go for your walk and clear your head. Get some perspective. You have your cell phone in case you need me, right?"

Jordan nodded absent-mindedly as she turned and left the building. The temperature was cold, but not as biting as Boston winters could be. Not that Jordan was really noticing. Her mind was still on the new forms and procedures she was still getting used to…how her friends had changed…that nothing had really remained the same, except her…when she rounded a corner and nearly ran into Renee' Walcott.

"Oh," she said, pulling up short. She hadn't seen Renee' at all since she woke up.

"Hey….you look great for a woman that had a two year nap," Renee' replied hugging Jordan over the baby stroller between them.

"Thanks…"

"So how's it going?"

"I'm doing okay…typical post-coma symptoms…tiredness and a few other side effects. But mostly okay."

"No… I mean how are you adjusting? A lot happened in two years."

"I can tell," Jordan replied, eyeing the baby carriage. "This is your daughter?"

Renee' nodded. "Yep. Breanna Elizabeth."

Jordan knelt beside the child for a moment, taking in the small face with dark eyes and head full of brunette curls. "She's beautiful, Renee'."

"Thanks, and you still haven't answered my questions. How are you adjusting?"

Jordan lowered her eyes. She knew Renee' was no longer a DA and she didn't have to worry about jeopardizing any part of her career by being honest with her. But it was still so hard to open up to people now…two years had altered everyone so much. And the proof of this was sitting in a stroller looking up at the two women. "It's hard, you know? The morgue work has changed…."

"So I've been told. Slokum seemed intent on altering everything in there from job descriptions to salaries to procedures before he was booted out."

Jordan nodded. "You're right. He did and he has…"

"And there's more to it than that, isn't Jordan?" Renee' asked.

"Yeah….there is…it's just ….I didn't figure people would change so much…you know?"

"It's been a rough couple of years, Jordan. And people change in order to adjust. Slokum caused a lot of fallout at the morgue. Most of the staff found someone else to turn to other than work colleagues to confide in. In many ways, the morgue never really returned to what it was before then."

"I can tell…it's just that I didn't have the chance to change with them."

"Look," Renee' said, taking her by the arm. "You're one of the strongest women I know. You've been through so much and have always come out on top. I have no doubt you'll do the same now. Just be patient with yourself and give yourself some time. Getting used to all this new stuff isn't going to happen over night. Take your time." She glanced down at her watch. "I have to go. Breanna has a doctor's appointment in about twenty minutes. But I do want to stay in touch. I'm not the DA any longer, so we can talk and you don't have to worry about your job. You're staying with Garret now, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll call you. Meanwhile….just remember, you'll get used to how things are…how things have changed. Just give yourself time and be patient." And with that, Renee' gave Jordan's arm a squeeze and pushed Breanna down the sidewalk.

_Give myself time…be patient_, Jordan mulled as she began to walk aimlessly down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of Renee. When she finally realized where her feet had taken her, she caught her breath. The seaside park that she and Woody had ran in the day he had been shot.

It had always been a favorite of hers, even before Woodrow Wilson Hoyt entered her life. She loved jogging down the board walk…or stopping for funnel cake and cider there in the summer. That had been when her life had been normal….not the upside down mess it was now. Renee' had told her to be patient. That was easier said than done.

Her constant fatigue bothered her. The longest she had been able to work was until two. By then she was so tired her brain had turned to mush. And she seemed to have bouts with chills…not normal ones, either. These could overtake her body when the temperature in a room was warm. She knew that both of these symptoms were just side effects of the coma and the medication she was on, but that still didn't make them any easier to live with. She pulled her jacket tighter around her and adjusted her scarf and set off at a brisk walk. Maybe the sea air would clear her head….maybe returning to a setting that was much-loved and well-traveled before her accident would remind her, just a little of what normal was.

Maybe…until she saw an all-too familiar form jogging her way. Woody.

Quickly she turned to walk away. She was hesitant to spoil his jog. She was even more reluctant to fight with him again. Jordan had not seen Woody alone since she came back to work at the morgue. She wasn't on field calls, so that lowered her contact with all the detectives. And when he did stroll into autopsy or trace, Bug, Nigel, and Sydney all ran interference for her.

Unfortunately, no one was running interference with her heart for her lingering attraction to him. Her heart over ruled her head and Jordan found herself at a dead stop, admiring his physique as he ran towards. He hadn't seen her yet…if she left now….

"Hi." He was slightly of breath, sweaty…and hot as hell. She was busted.

"Hi…" she replied, softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face that the wind kept whipping in her eyes.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said, digging one toes of his shoes into the gravel walkway. "Garret finally unchain you from your office?"

Jordan smiled slightly. Evidently her past history of hating paperwork had not been forgotten. "No. Dr. Cruz still hasn't released me for field work yet."

"Oh. Then that explains why I haven't seen you. And I thought it was just me that was keeping you away." He glanced at her eyes then, a teasing expression softening the normally harsh lines on his face.

"Don't flatter yourself, Farm Boy. It would take more than you to keep me away from a homicide call."

Woody chuckled, then turned serious again. "So you're feeling better?" Instantly he realized what an inane question that was and fleetingly wondered just how often Jordan was asked that same stupid question each day. _I could have at least been more original_, he thought.

"A little better…each day," she responded politely

"When do you think the doctor will let you go on calls again?" _That's better…._

Jordan leaned back against the fence that bordered the jogging path and sighed. "I don't know," she replied, her voice faltering a little.

Instant concern flooded Woody's chest making it feel tight and uncomfortable. "Is there something you're not telling me, Jo? Are you really okay?"

Wordlessly she nodded, trying to regain her composure. Of all people, she didn't want to lose it in front of Woody…but of all the people in her life, he may understand the most. It had taken years for his life to return to something that only resembled normal. "I guess….I guess I'm just ready for everything to be like it was before my…my…accident. And it's not. It never will be." She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and looked him in the eyes. "I guess what I'm trying to say, is I want normal again. I want my old life back. I want ….to …to …"

"Be Jordan again."

Miserably she nodded. She hated being that obvious around him. "I would at least like to be given permission to run again…you don't know how lucky you are."

Woody cut her a sharp look. His legs were something he never took for granted now. "Oh yes, I do…" he said in a gentler tone.

A blush creeping into her cheeks, she looked down. "I'm sorry. I know you do…I shouldn't have interrupted your run." She put on her glasses and turned around to leave.

"Wait. Don't go." His hand on her arm stopped her. He turned her around to face him. With a hand just as gentle as his voice, he pulled her sunglasses back off and looked deep into her eyes. She was still just as beautiful…thinner…but oh, so fragile and beautiful. And her hair was longer, nearly to her waist. Unlike many of their coma patients who had their hair cut short for ease of care, the nurses had refused to cut Jordan's hair. It fell in chestnut waves all the way down her back now. And her eyes were now filled with tears. There was something else…

"What else is the matter, Jordan? You can tell me…" He softly rubbed her arm.

And she felt her walls beginning to crumble. "Everything…everything is wrong, Woody. I'm not sure I'll ever be the way I was before. I don't remember what normal was for me…I'm having trouble remembering all the new forms and procedures at work … I just feel so scattered and I'm having a hard time concentrating some days. I stay tired all the time…and by one or two o'clock I'm completely exhausted. The side effects of the coma and medicine are nausea … and motion sickness … and I feel cold for some reason all the time…"

"Those are things that will go away with time, Jor. Cut yourself some slack. Everyone had trouble with all those new forms and procedures."

She nodded miserably again. "But it's not just that…"

"Then what?" His hand trailed her arm to tilt her fact to look into his.

"I'm not whining, honestly, it's just that…."

"Your confused, and frustrated….and scared."

Jordan's eyes widened. "How do you know…"

"Because I felt the same way after the sniper shot me. So tell me, Jordan. What else is bothering you?" His voice was still gentle and coaxing.

"Everyone's changed…but me. So much has happened to people during the two years I was in a coma, but I've stayed the same. For me, it's still the day of the accident. I should be going back to my Pearle Street apartment….pulling doubles and rotation…..arguing with Slokum…being fussed at for not doing my paperwork. Instead, I'm struggling to get caught up and barely functioning…."

The fragility in her face and the vulnerability in her voice alarmed Woody. This was a side to Jordan Cavanaugh…pre or post coma … he had never seen. He was about to reply when her cell phone went off.

Damn.

It was Garret….he was worried about her. Evidently she had been gone for some time. "I have to get back," she said, scrubbing the few tears that had fallen off her cheeks. "Thanks for listening…."

"Look, no problem." He struggled for a moment to try to find some words to keep the communication lines open…to keep her talking to him at least. "Anytime…we can still be friends, can't we?" _That was a great line, cowboy. You played her on that once and remember where that got you…._

And evidently she did, too…the expression on her fact told him so. She shook her head and pulled away from him. "We tried that before, remember?" she asked with a sad, tight smile. "It didn't work. But I understand you now, Woody. I know why you told me to 'screw my pity' when you were in the hospital and kicked me out of your room. I don't want pity, either. Just help when I need it. And I also understand the fact that you're a good looking man…a real success on your job and with the ladies … you've moved on with your life. And rightfully so. It's been even longer than two years since we've had a civil conversation. I know why we can't be friends…."

"But Jordan…."

His protest fell on deaf ears. "_You've_ moved on," she continued. "For you, you've had the time to process everything between us….I haven't. For me, it's still the day of my accident and your rejecting me…telling me to get out of your life…it all still hurts too much," she finished in a soft voice. Then she turned and walked off, leaving him to stare at her slight, retreating figure.

_She may not know it_, he thought as he turned and jogged off in the opposite direction, _but I am her friend…and I am going to help Jordan adjust to her world as much as she will let me….and even when she doesn't._


	7. Adult Play Clothes

**Chapter Seven**

**Adult Play Clothes**

"Come on, Jordan. One more stop and then we'll go to Starbucks and have a cappuccino … I promise," Lily coaxed, dragging Jordan into one more store at the mall. "This one has a sale and has clothes to die for…"

Jordan grasped the handles of her half-a-dozen shopping bags a little tighter and gamely followed Lily into the store. A few days after she had ran into Woody at the park, she felt a little more of her strength return. She asked Lily to go shopping with her…she needed everything. Jordan had made a Walmart run after getting out of the hospital and picked up jeans, shirts, and a few personal items, but she needed work clothes now.

And the woman still left in her wanted Victoria's Secret lingerie to wear under her new clothes.

She had made a few purchases…skirts and tops. Pants. Clothes for work.

"And now you need clothes for play," Lily had told her.

"I have running clothes," Jordan protested. Indeed. A pair of Garret's old sweat pants and a t-shirt made excellent running clothes.

"That's not what I meant," Lily said. "You need adult play clothes."

Jordan gave her a look of total bewilderment.

"You know…evening stuff. Stuff to wear to bars…out dancing."

"I don't think I'll be doing any of that anytime soon," Jordan replied. "Remember, my brain still turns to mush by two in the afternoon. I don't think I'm a good candidate for bar hopping anytime soon."

"Then you'll go home and take a nap and be ready to party by eight," Lily said. "You need to get out. All you're doing is working and then going home with Garret. Not to say that's not stimulating and all," Lily rolled her eyes, remembering her long-ago relationship with Dr. Macy, "but you need to get out. Meet men. Date." She left her unspoken comment _forget about Woody_, hanging in the silence between them and the rack of designer dress. "Here….try this on. It's your color and it's on sale."

Reluctantly Jordan took the outfit from Lily and headed to the dressing room. Lily was right about that…just as she was right about most things. Jordan had been living like a hermit for the past three months. Work and home. That was it. She had even refused to go with Garret to his beloved jazz clubs. "I don't feel up to it," was her feeble excuse.

The fact was, she still felt like she didn't fit in. That she was trapped in her own private time warp hell. She couldn't turn back the hands of time, so she simply tried to avoid the changes that the two years had brought about. If she stayed in her own private cocoon, then maybe no one would notice that she had somehow drifted away from her friends…not knowing how to deal with the changes in their lives and the lack of change in her own. Not to mention her inability just to deal with _herself_.

_I may as well not even have woken up_, she mused to herself, as she slid out of her clothes one more time to try on the silky creation Lily had sent her into the dressing rooms with. People had moved on. She had remained the same. Struggling with her past, and now with her future. A future that was uncertain and unclear. One that didn't have the man she loved in it…She turned her back to the mirror and struggled with the zipper. A future she was sure she would be alone in….She turned around to see how she looked.

Damn…maybe she did need to get out more. The dress Lily had chosen was deep purple…and plunged low in the front…and back. The skirt hugged her figure and had a slit up the side. She looked …. Nice. If she couldn't control her past, maybe this dress was one of her first steps in controlling her future. She stared at herself in the mirror.

She was thinner and her hair was longer…her curves no longer held a soft, womanly look, but were more diminutive … almost making her appear fragile….vulnerable… like a woman who needed protecting….She swallowed nervously, wondering what man would feel up to the job. What man would want to? There was only one way to find out. "Hey, Lily?" she asked, over the top of the dressing room door.

"Yeah…what do you need, Jordan?"

"Do they have shoes to go with this outfit?"

* * *

He had watched her for a good portion of the evening, not that she had been aware of it. Woody had heard through the inner office ME/PD grapevine that Jordan was finally going out tonight. Some of the newer officers in the nineteenth precinct had taken to call her Sleeping Beauty…after the Disney princess that had fallen into a deep sleep only to be woken with a kiss from her prince. "I would like to be her prince," one of the rookies had announced, after seeing Jordan in the morgue.

"Forget it," answered Seely. "The woman doesn't need to be rescued. Just understood. Right, Woody?" he continued, giving Woody a pointed look.

Woody grimaced at the memory… but had been grateful that Matt had given him the heads up that Jordan would be at this club tonight with her friends. Part of Woody was glad that she was finally getting out.

Another part of him was upset that it wasn't him that was escorting her…but he had opted to be there…stay in the background…just to make sure she was okay.

God knows she was beautiful…in that purple dress. Woody took a drink of his Scotch as he watched her from across the club. He had always thought red was her color…but she looked equally as beautiful in purple.

Hell, who was he kidding? Jordan would look good in anything. And better in nothing in at all.

The Scotch was loosening his mind as well as his tongue. She danced with Seely…and then Nigel….now Sydney. Woody couldn't help but remember all the slow dances they had danced at her father's bar. Holding her. His body warmed at the memory and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Fancy meeting you here, mate," a voice behind him said.

"Nigel," Woody said turning to shake hands with the tall man. "How's it going?"

"Good…but I'm surprised to see you here…this doesn't seem like your normal gig…"

And it wasn't. At least not anymore. After his recovery from the sniper shooting, Woody rarely went out to places such as this…favoring a small, dark, local sports bar instead. He hadn't really gone out to a place like this…since…since….Jordan's accident. "I get out from time to time," he replied in a tone far more casual than he felt.

Nigel knew it, too. Eyeing Woody closely, he said, "You know you can join us over there if you like."

"I wouldn't want to interrupt…."

"She doesn't bite, Woody," Nigel said softly.

He'd been caught red-handed. Busted. Found out. Turned in.

"In fact, she really doesn't do much of anything but work now," Nigel continued. "We just felt she needed to get out a little."

"So I heard…"

"Matt told you…"

Woody nodded, finishing off his Scotch. "She looks wonderful," he replied.

"She does…a little too thin, but I imagine that will get better as time passes," Nigel said, noting the wistful note in the detective's voice. "But not bad for a two year comatose person. Don't you think?"

Woody nodded. He needed to leave. Obviously Jordan was having a great time. Obviously she was in good hands. Obviously she didn't need him. "Yeah, sure," he replied absently to Nigel. "I need to go…." He stood and pushed past Nigel, walking to the entrance of the club.

Only to be stopped in his tracks by a vision in deep purple. Woody closed his eyes. This wasn't good. "Hi," she said. "I didn't know you were here tonight. Do you come here a lot?" Her voice held sincere innocence. She didn't know he'd been tipped off…didn't know he had been there only to make sure she was okay.

"A few times … are you leaving?"

Jordan shook her head. "No…I just needed to get away from all the….noise for a while. It makes my head spin…" She offered him a feeble smile. The truth was, she was still struggling. New groups…new music…new dances….while it was all a gesture to make her feel better, it simply had made her feel more out of place. Made her more ready to go home to Garret's….to her self-imposed exile.

"It can get loud."

She nodded. "You're leaving?" she asked, noticing his coat slung over his shoulder.

"Yeah. Early day tomorrow. Work."

"Oh…"

"Say Jordan, if you're tired, I'll be glad to take…"

"There you are," Lily said, interrupting their conversation. "I didn't know where you had gotten off to…."

"I just needed some air…"

"Come back inside…Detective Nick Franks is here. He works with Matt. Wants to meet you and maybe dance with you…"

Woody groaned inwardly….that was the rookie who had called Jordan Sleeping Beauty. If he so much as laid a finger on her….he gave Jordan a glance, just in time to catch her covering her own grimace.

"Sure, Lil…just a minute."

Lily nodded. "I'll be just inside."

They stood facing each other for an awkward moment…reminding Jordan of all the near- miss kisses they hadn't shared. "I guess I should go back in…" she finally said, breaking the tension.

Woody smiled at her briefly. "Have fun…just don't get too tired…"

Jordan nodded, turning to go.

"And watch Franks…" Woody called out. "He's …. He's…. got a wandering eye and ….and …. hand."

Jordan turned back and looked closely at Woody. "I'll be fine…" _And you're worried about this? Why?_

Woody watched her go back into the club and nearly followed her…Jordan may be okay, but he was the furthest thing from it.


	8. An Anchor

**Chapter Eight**

**An Anchor**

Springtime broke in Boston with all the gusto of an Easter parade…flowers were blooming, trees were budding, the birds returned, and the temperatures rose to hint at summer, vacations, and warm sea breezes. But for Jordan, it may have well as remained a New England winter. She felt bleak, cold, and frozen in time…despite all the positive changes that had occurred in her life.

She was working until three or four in the afternoon now, more out of the need to stay busy than any real improvement with her health. She still stayed tired and cold…and the meds she was on still caused nausea. But if she left work early, she found herself with too much time to think, which wasn't always a good thing.

Jordan had also moved out of Garret's house and away from so much doctor supervision. She had looked for an apartment for weeks…something small and easy to care for. Her former Pearle Street apartment had long been rented out, so that was out of the question. She had pounded the pavement for weeks looking for a new home.

Ironically, it was Woody who finally came to her rescue in this issue. A soft knock on her office door had gotten her attention a few weeks ago. "I hear you're looking for an apartment?" he asked.

She had nodded.

"Any luck?"

"Not much. I just want something like a loft apartment right now…one that's easy to take care of and small. I still don't think I could handle anymore than that."

Woody pulled away from the door, reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a brochure. "The building I'm living in now has a few apartments available. A couple of them are lofts. Here's the information…if you want, I'll take you over there at lunch and you can have a look at them."

Jordan unfolded the brochure and looked at it carefully. The lofts were well laid out and the price was right. Woody had taken her over during her lunch hour and after perusing one of the apartments, she had signed a year's lease.

And Woody had let out a sigh of relief. At least he could keep an eye and ear out for her now…be sure she was all right, without having to be so damn obvious. He had to constantly remind himself that they were really in the time warp from hell. While he had had the time to process their relationship and the myriad of things that had gone wrong…the hurtful things said, Jordan hadn't. His idiotic behavior…pushing her away…the pain was still very fresh in her mind. He had to be very careful with her.

Jordan sighed as she looked out the window of her new apartment, noting all the changes that were going on outside… and inside her heart. Tonight her building was holding a "mixer"…sort of like a block party for all the apartment dwellers. There was a band and dancing…food. Woody had asked her earlier this week if she was going to attend.

She told him she might.

"It would do you good, Jordan. You'd get to meet the people in the building…we could even hang out a little while …sort of like old times?" he had asked.

"I'll see," she replied, without a lot of enthusiasm.

"Are you still not feeling back to normal?" he asked sharply, remembering their long-ago conversation in the park.

She shook her head. "I still get tired by late afternoon…I still have trouble focusing…"

"What does Dr. Cruz say?"

"That this is normal and may continue for a while…"

He took her by the shoulders. "You need to do something besides go to work and come back to this apartment. I want to see you at that mixer."

* * *

She wasn't there. Woody had waited for nearly an hour on her and she didn't show up. His mind was telling him all kinds of things. She could have worked longer…she could be out with friends.

Or she could be holding herself up in that apartment in her self-imposed exile. Determinedly he rode the elevator to her floor and knocked on her door. A minute later, she answered.

"Are you coming?" he asked an edge of impatience to his voice … until he caught sight of her red-rimmed eyes. Jordan had been crying. "Are you okay?" he asked, the impatience giving way to concern.

"Yeah….I'm fine. Just….a bad day."

He closed her door and pulled her inside to the couch. "Talk to me," he said "Tell me what happened…one too many dead bodies? Macy riding you about paperwork?"

She shook her head. "No….it's me."

"Has Dr. Cruz told you anything I need to know?"

Again, she shook her head. "No. This is just me…how I feel. I still feel like everyone has moved light years ahead in their lives during the time I was in a coma and that there's no way I'm going to catch up with them….I've tried, but it seems like I'm stuck and can't move ahead. I feel….I feel … lost. Like maybe I shouldn't have woken up…."

"Don't ever say that," he replied in such a tone of voice that she looked at him with startled eyes. "After watching you for two years… wondering… waiting… praying….Don't ever let me hear that come out of your mouth again."

Jordan took a deep breath. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I know it sounds like I'm ungrateful…but I'm not. I'm still just trying to figure out where I fit in…I guess I'm just tired of working so hard to understand the past and move on with my life. I'm tired of being so exhausted by two or three o'clock that I need a nap…when I used to be able to work until seven and then stay out past midnight. I want the old me back…but I want the same people I knew two years ago back, too. And they're not there. They've gone on with their lives….are with new people…and I'm so lonely…and just…lost."

"Jordan…."

"I know…I know…I know what you're going to say….I only have myself to blame…that I need to put myself out there more…"

"No," he interrupted suddenly, cupping her chin in one of his hands. "That's not it.

I was about to say I understand how you feel. It took me a year after the shooting to get back to somewhere near where I was before…to feel like a whole person again. To feel like _me_. So give yourself some time." He studied her closely for a second. "Meanwhile, go change and come downstairs with me. At least get something to eat." He smiled a full smile at her then…complete with dimples. "Come on…please?"

"Do you mind waiting on me? I won't be more than a minute."

"Go. Take your time. I'll be here when you're ready."

With that, Jordan made her way to her bathroom and shut the door. Woody watched her retreat. He understood full well how Jordan felt. The insecurity. The fears. The need to stay somewhere familiar just to feel safe…the seeming irrational inability to leave the house. The desire to "nest" instead of getting out. He knew and understood it all better than she thought he did.

But in his mind, his promise to himself that he would look out for her and take care of her included getting her over this hump. And that meant making sure she was getting out. So when he heard the bathroom door open back up, he stood up and was determined that she was going downstairs with him and have a good time. He turned to face her…

And lost his breath.

She looked effortlessly wonderful in a blue halter dress.

And painfully thin.

He wondered how he could have overlooked that little fact and for how long had he not noticed. He swallowed this new fear for Jordan and reached out of her hand. "C'mon. Let's go."

He held her hand all the way downstairs and then possessively made sure his hand was at the small of her back as they made their way through the crowds of people. Woody was afraid that if he didn't hold onto her in some way, she'd float away from him...be gone forever somewhere on the horizon….she was that thin. Wordlessly he guided her to the food where she grabbed a pretzel and a ginger ale while Woody got a beer from the bar. "Pretty nice, huh?" he asked as he steered her to an outside table.

"It is…and it's a beautiful evening."

He was about to confirm her statement when he heard "Hoyt," from off to the side. It was Danny, his next door neighbor. "Wait here," Woody said. "I'll be right back…okay?" he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Sure…"

"I won't be long."

"I'll just listen to the band…"

"And stay there…with so many people I may not be able to find you again…" Woody reluctantly left her…hoping that for once Jordan would do what he asked…just stay there. But if the past was any indication of the present, if Jordan wanted to leave, she would…she had never adjectively done anything he had asked.

So he was pleasantly surprised to return to the table several minutes later to find her sitting there, but not alone. Jordan was gamely trying to fight off the advances of a very drunk neighbor. He heard her say in a breathless voice, "No…I can't go with you … I'm waiting on someone…."

"She's waiting on me," Woody cut in, giving the man a hard look and flashing his detective's badge at him. "The lady is with me," he declared, reaching for Jordan's hand and pulling her to her feet, flush against him. "So the best thing for you to do is go find yourself a quiet spot somewhere and sober up a little before you get into some real trouble." Woody's arm snaked around her waist and held her to him until the guy ambled off on unsteady feet.

Jordan felt her rapid heartbeat try to return to normal….not that that was an easy thing to do with her body snuggled tightly against Woody's. She had never been so glad to see him in her life. She wasn't having a lot of success fending the drunk man off…and was way too much of a lightweight to be the least bit intimidating. Woody's warm, hard arms were reassuring comfort to her adjusting world – an anchor for her to cling to.

She could only pray he would let her cling to him a little longer.


	9. It's Not Pity

**Chapter Nine**

**It's not Pity**

And he kept her anchored against him, holding her there for a minute, looking down into her somewhat confused brown eyes with his own steady, blue ones. "Did he hurt you? Are you all right?" he asked.

That was a loaded question. To be in Woody's arms once more…being held close against him…she never thought that would happen again. Two years ago he had pushed her firmly out of his life and shut the door. After she first woke back up from the coma, he still had remained frosty, even though a large part of that behavior was her fault.

But lately…lately, there had been a thaw. A warming trend. He had started coming around more…talking with her. Being more like the old Woody she remembered…the Woody before the sniper's shooting.

The Woody that had once loved her.

"Did he?" Woody asked again, startling Jordan out of her thoughts and confusion. "Because if he did, I'll go over there and…"

She placed a finger on his lips. "No. No, he didn't do anything to me…just too much beer trying to hold a conversation."

"Too much beer trying to pick you up. Come on. Let's put some distance between you and him." His arm still firmly around her waist, he led her over to the area where the band was playing old rock tunes. He didn't dance with her, but instead, held her in front of him, arms still around her waist, her back to his chest, and gently swayed with her in time to the music. When the band got ready to take a break, he whispered in her ear, "Are you tired? Are you ready for me to take you back upstairs?"

She shook her head. "No…not really. This is the most relaxed I've been in a long time." She didn't want to move out of his arms, but she could already feel him slipping away from her…just to take her hand. She regretted the loss of his warm body from behind her.

"Good…I'm glad you're relaxed…and I'm glad you're not tired. Follow me…" Truth be told, Woody was just as reluctant as Jordan was to move from their spot in front of the band. Holding her like that conjured up memories of a more innocent time with them…a time when they both were feeling each other out. When, unbeknownst to Jordan and himself, the walls were really down between them….years ago, when Max owned the bar and he and Jordan would dance after it had closed. Years ago, before life got so damn complicated and events and attitudes drove them apart.

He longed for that time again…if he ever got any of it back, he'd never let her go again. H led her down a small, open, back alley to a gazebo area – one that was normally used for cookouts and such by tenants. Only tonight, it was decorated with small, twinkling white lights….creating an intimate atmosphere in the springtime dusk. Woody found a bench in a secluded area and pulled her down beside him. Somehow, with the evening, the lights, and Jordan's new air of fragility and vulnerability, he was afraid that she was somehow going to escape him…and the drunken bully encounter earlier did nothing to dispel that fear. He held her hand tightly as he turned to her and smiled.

"This is nice," he said.

"It is…they've really done a great job with this area…"

"I wasn't talking about the gazebo," he replied, in a low voice. "I was talking about us. Being together. Again."

For all her contemplations on the evening, until Woody had held her against him, that was one thing Jordan had not thought about. Yes, there had been a thaw in their relationship, but she hadn't placed any hopes in the once-again budding warmth but friendship.

After all, that had been the card trick they had played with each other for years. To her, especially after two years, there was no other reason to hope for anything else. It was too late. Woody had moved on with his life. He was just being Woody again – kind, considerate…somewhere, somehow, in the past months his anger at her had dissipated….dissolved with the winter snow at the first warmth of spring.

"It is?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

"I never thought it would happen again. I was so afraid, Jo. That you'd never wake up…that I'd never be able to…."

Woody never finished the sentence. He reached out and cupped her face with one hand, his fingers gently trailing her cheek and his thumb running across her lips, parting them with its slight pressure.

And when he replaced his thumb with his lips, Jordan lost all track of time…and awareness of her surroundings. She had longed for his loving touch so long…she opened her mouth further and leaned into him…needing to feel his warmth and the security of his arms.

She desperately needed to know that in her shifting world, he was still that steady anchor she had depended on in the past.

Woody felt her response and deepened the kiss again, pulling her closer, his fingers releasing her cheek and tangling themselves in her hair. Learning her all over again…

Until Jordan took the initiative and pulled away. "No…we can't," she whispered.

Stunned, Woody looked at her with wide eyes. "Why?"

"I can't do this again, Woody. I can't loose my heart to you again….and then find out I'm not enough…I'm second best…"

"Jordan…you're not." He lightly brushed her lips with his again. "You're not…You've never been second best."

"Maybe not for someone out there. But that someone isn't you. You kept pushing me away before my accident. In fact, you seemed pretty damn sure I wasn't what you wanted or needed. How do I really know that's really changed?"

"But Jordan…"

"You've been kind to me, Woody. And I appreciate it…I want you to know that I always will love you…but I can't loose my heart again to you and then you pull away from me because you change your mind."

"I'm not going to…"

Jordan held up a hand to stop him, then softly traced his cheek with the same hand. "You told me once that you didn't want my pity….I didn't understand that then…or you. I do now. I don't want your pity. I don't want you looking at me and thinking 'Poor Jordan….she doesn't have anyone….she was in a coma …she wakes up, but her world is torn apart'. I don't want that. I don't want your pity…I don't want to be second best…I don't want to throw myself back into a relationship with you and then a year down the road find out that I'm not enough…that it was all because you felt sorry for me."

"It's not going to be like that, Jo. I've had two years to think about things…."

"But I haven't," she said softly. "I've had a two year nap…"

Reaching out and taking both of her hands in his, Woody rubbed gently circles on the backs of them, hoping to rub in a little trust as well as comfort. "I know, sweetheart. I know. Just please…don't think this is pity. It isn't. And please, don't turn away from me…"

"I'm not. I'm just asking for time…"

Woody sighed and looked up at the sky that was just beginning to darken…the stars were coming out in bunches now…twinkling. He had read somewhere that the light that you see from the stars now was actually hundreds of years old…that it took it that long, even at monumental amounts of speed, to reach earth's atmosphere and for the human eye to pick it up. If the earth could be that patient with starlight…

Surely he could be that patient with Jordan. She was right. She hadn't had but a few months to try to straighten out her life. He wasn't going to push anything on her right now…he'd give her the time…but he would keep on loving her all the while.

He got up from the bench and pulled her to her feet. "Time…if that's all you're asking me for, that's what you've got. I've learned patience the hard way, Jordan. I can't demand from you what you're not ready to give me…and I understand. Just please know…I'm here for you…I was an ass in the past, but I won't be again…"

Woody gently took her arm and led her back through the crowd to her apartment. It was getting late and cooler...and he had seen her shiver several times in that halter dress. He had hoped that somehow tonight he'd be helping her out of it. That wasn't meant to be. His feelings for her would have to wait until later to be revealed…

And God knows those feelings in his heart….and below his waist….wasn't pity.


	10. It Will Be a Long Night

**Chapter Ten**

**It Will Be a Long Night**

"What's on your mind, Jordan?" Garret asked.

"What makes you think there's anything on my mind?" she replied.

"The fact that this is the fifteenth time in the last five minutes you've walked passed my office to see if I was off the phone yet." He smiled at her and waved her through the entrance. "Come in. Shut the door. Talk to me." He pulled put his lower desk drawer and poured them both a finger of Scotch. Sliding her glass across the desk to her, he sat back and propped his feet up on its surface. "So what's on your mind?" he repeated.

Jordan took a sip of the liquid and felt the burn. She didn't drink much now…she was still on some of her meds. But this time, the Scotch began to relax her and give her the liquid courage to find out what she may not really want to know. "I need to ask some questions, Garret. About my coma…about how it happened and what happened. Some of the things leading up to it, I don't remember. I feel like there's some time lapse between what I remember and what actually happened."

Garret nodded. He had been expecting this for quite a while. It had always struck him odd that Jordan didn't ask a whole lot of questions about the accident…that she had accepted what Dr. Cruz said and what he told her without any more investigation on her part. At first Garret had chalked it up to her health. Then he began to realize that on some level, Jordan didn't _want_ to know what happened. "Okay…shoot. I'll tell you what I know…."

"And you'll tell me the truth?"

"Absolutely."

"Promise."

"I solemnly swear to tell you the truth, the whole, truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me, Jordan," he joked back, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

"What happened between Woody and me? Why did I leave his office that night in tears? I mean, I know we were fighting….but why did I go back over there to his office? And if he was so mad at me, why did me coming out of the coma mean so much to him? I remember he told me he was moving on with his life and so should I."

Garret figured that might be coming. Jordan had asked about everyone in great detail since she woke up. She now knew and understood the minutia of everything that had changed since her accident. She was adjusting to the changes.

The one person she had never asked about was Woody.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked, looking at her with gentle eyes.

Jordan stirred uncomfortably in her seat on the couch. Garret always had a way of cutting through the bullshit with her. She threaded her fingers together nervously. "I…he…we…Um…"

"Jordan?" Garret asked. "It's okay…you can tell me."

"When I first woke up, he came to see me in the hospital…"

Garret nodded. At the time he had wondered how wise that move was, but he knew how anxious Woody had been about Jordan's health the entire two years she had been asleep. "I know…"

"And he was all apologetic about the accident…said that it was his fault. And that he was sorry he hurt me by pushing me away…but he was hurting so bad himself that he wanted to hurt me."

"And?"

"I told him to screw his pity and leave…"

_Ouch…_ Garret thought. _That was bound to hurt after two years of worry…_

"So naturally he's been kind of cold to me…"

"Naturally."

Jordan sighed and rethreaded her fingers together more tightly. "But lately…lately, he's been coming around more. He helped me find an apartment. And we've talked more about the past…how things were before his shooting and my accident. How things are now…."

"And?" Garret gently prompted again when she grew silent and looked away.

"What happened between Woody and me? How did it get this way?"

Garret sighed and gathered his thoughts. He didn't want to candy coat any of the couple's history, but neither did he want Jordan to be burdened with a past that Woody had long since buried. "Do you remember the ring he tried to give you?"

She nodded miserably. She figured that was where it started.

"Then you remember what he told you…about being friends. And you remember his shooting and what he told you?"

"Screw your pity and get out now…" She still winced at the harshness of the words.

"Well, after Woody came back to the police department, you two still had to work together…Slokum wouldn't let you get around it like I would have…There was this case about a man who had been dumped in an alley, but killed elsewhere."

"Peter Howell."

"Right. Anyway, for some reason, that lit the fireworks between you and Woody. You fought like cats and dogs over the case. The evening of your accident, you went over this his office to give him evidence that would back your theory up. He told you off again, He didn't go after you to make sure you were okay and that you calmed down. You had left in tears…"

"And never saw the car that hit me…"

"No. I'm sorry, Jordan."

Jordan digested that information. She knew she had been hurt by what Woody had said…but didn't remember being so upset. "So what did Woody do after my accident?" she asked softly.

Blowing out a sigh, Garret leaned further back in his chair. "Blamed himself….said it was his fault you were hurt. Kept nearly a twenty-four a day vigil by your bed for a week until it became apparent you weren't going to wake up anytime soon…He was scared out of his wits for you.."

"Blamed himself?"

"Yeah. Said if he hadn't of said those things to you….you would have never been in a coma."

"Oh…" She stood to go.

"Is that it?" Garret asked, surprised at her sudden departure. He imagined they might be mulling over the id and ego of Woody the rest of the afternoon.

"Yeah. You've told me everything I needed to know…" she replied.

"I don't think so." Garret reached in his file drawer behind the bottle of Scotch. "This is the file on your accident. You may want to read through it…."

"Thanks," she said as she headed back to her office. _So what he feels for me is pity…_ she thought as she threw the file on her desk. _It's not affection…love…or whatever we had before he was shot…it is pity. He was scared and felt sorry for me._ She sat down at her desk and buried her head in her hands. _And he still feels sorry for me…that kiss last night…those words…did her really mean them? Or does he still only pity me?_

Four hours later, she still wasn't sure. She had combed through her medical records, the forensic files, and the police reports with a fine tooth comb. However, one thing Jordan did know for sure from her past experiences….while the truth may not always set you free, it went a hell of a long way letting you know what exactly was in front of your face….

* * *

Jordan stared at herself for a long time in the mirror. So much about her had changed, yet so much remained like it had been two years ago.

And she could say the same thing about Woody. He may not realize it, but a lot of his emotions could be based on some inner pity…some guilt…that he harbored about their relationship…their fights…she didn't want that. If their relationship was going to go forward…given time and a chance….it would have to be because…because…they loved each other. She nearly gulped at the word.

Love.

Not guilt.

Not pity.

Love.

And he had to know this. Making up her mind, she quickly changed into a skirt and blouse she had bought on her shopping trip with Lily. A full, rose colored skirt that hung past her knees and an ivory silk peasant top. Then just as quickly, she gathered her purse and keys, made her way downstairs and found herself knocking on Woody's door. "Hi," she said timidly when he answered his door. "Can I come in?"

"What are you doing here at this hour?" Woody asked as she pushed past him to come into his apartment. He was just getting ready for bed…his shirt open and out of the waistband of his pants.

"I need to talk to you," she replied, standing in the middle of his living room with her hands pressed tightly together. "I really do. Can I? Is it too late?"

"No…not at all." He sat down on his couch and patted the cushion beside him. "Come here…."

"No…please. I'd rather stand…"

And given her agitated state, he didn't argue, just looked at her, raising his eyebrows to prompt her to go on.

"Look….I've talked to Garret today…and looked through the files on my accident…and Woody…Garret said that you felt like my accident was your fault… that you felt guilty for it…and what happened to me."

"I did….do…feel somewhat responsible. If I hadn't said those things to you…"

"Don't. Just …. Don't…."

"Don't?"

"Don't feel guilty about the accident, or sorry for me. The accident was as much my fault as anyone else's. Your anger toward me….I contributed to that, too. I mean three years….I strung you along for three years….then when I don't know if you're going to live or die, I tell you what I feel. No wonder you're mad at me…"

"Jordan…"

But she was on a roll then, and nothing he could say would shut her off. "Don't feel guilty about it…or sorry for me. I'm going to be fine…just fine….I'm getting stronger everyday…I'll move on with my life…I'll be fine…just fine…." She was nearly babbling now…just trying to relieve him of any of the guilt he may still feel … and absolve herself from any lingering pity that may still be there. She didn't see his arm snake out until she felt his fingers curl around her wrist and pull her into his lap.

"Maybe you'll be fine, but I'm nowhere near it," he replied before he pulled her closer and kissed her…not nearly as gentle with her as he had been the night before. He felt her stiffen for a minute, then her body relaxed against his. He softened his lips against hers then, coaxing a more intimate response from her, teasing her mouth open, tracing her lips with his tongue, kissing her until the sound of her soft whimper brought him back to reality. He slowly broke the kiss, but kept his arms firmly around her. "What I feel for you, Jordan Marie Cavanaugh, is not pity…not by any stretch of the imagination. Am I sorry all of this mess happened. Absolutely. Would I change it if I could? In a heartbeat. Would I want to be with you only because I feel sorry for you? Not a chance.

"What I feel for you isn't pity…it isn't guilt….on some level, it isn't even concern. What I feel for you now is the same thing I felt when I first saw you at the bank robbery years ago. Admiration. Respect. Love. And a healthy dose of lust. I love you, Jordan. Please tell me you still love me, too?"

Jordan looked into his blue eyes…once again open and honest with her…He was telling her the truth, and the truth she saw was far more intense than she'd ever imagined. Woody did love her. His attitude tonight had surprised her. In the past, he had never been this take charge with her. But tonight, he not only showed her the depth of his feelings, he had proven to her how far he was willing to go. Held against him like this she knew in no uncertain terms just how serious he was…and strong…

And how much power his love held over her. She willingly settled back down in his arms and let him hold her there…on his lap…on the couch. She never even thought to protest.

She really didn't want to. She simply snuggled closer and was rewarded with another kiss…and his hands trailed down her legs to take off her shoes….making sure she was comfortable before he kissed her again…and again….and again. Finally breathless minutes later, he pulled back. "Jordan….do you…are you able…?"

His kisses had left her breathless…but the events of the day had left her emotionally and physically drained. "Oh, I want to, Farm Boy," she whispered. "But tonight…I'm just exhausted. I still am just so tired by three in the afternoon…all I want to do is sleep…" She gave him a worried look…unsure of how the man in Woody would take that information. "I just want all my strength back before we…I mean…if we take that last step…I want it to be forever."

A slow, Grinch-like smile soon wreathed his face. Putting his lips to her ear, he whispered, "Then I suggest you rest up, Dr. Cavanaugh. Because when I finally take you to bed, I guarantee it will be a long night…"


End file.
